


JAOA: Remembrance and Loss

by BlackRose (darthneko)



Series: JAOA [24]
Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Character Death, Grief/Mourning, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-12-09
Updated: 2001-12-09
Packaged: 2017-10-25 21:30:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/274991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darthneko/pseuds/BlackRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All things must end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	JAOA: Remembrance and Loss

**JAOA: Rememberance and Loss  
Year of the Republic 25,003**

* * *

The ceremony, if it could be called that, was quiet and respectful. A handful of Jedi Masters and Knights, gathered in remembrance of a man they had respected. Memories were shared in soft voices, things that were good, that recalled awe or laughter. Things that treasured the life and the spirit that had passed on, things that gifted those who remained with bright points to cherish.

Anakin sat among them, amid faces and names that he had known since he had first come to the Temple. Contemporaries of Qui-Gon, those who remained, the passing of the years weighing on each as their species dictated. Council Members, current and retired. Men and women of his own Master's age, who had known the elder Jedi Master as teacher within the Temple. Seated beside them, he found himself one of the youngest of those gathered - few his own age had interacted with the Jedi Master after his retirement.

The glow of Coruscant's sunset bathed the gardens in an amber light, warm and soothing. Those gathered sat as they would, on grass or rock, alone or in small groups about the larger circle. Anakin had chosen a seat upon a flat stone, legs curled beneath him. Those around him had passed him as they entered, many pausing to say a brief word of sympathy or merely reach out, touching lightly, something he returned with as much warmth as he could.

Han sat just behind and to his right, a silent warmth. The boy hadn't said anything, had merely followed his Master and installed himself beside the older man, a gesture Anakin appreciated greatly. Throughout all of the reminiscents he had sat quietly, not with the fidgeting boredom that Anakin had expected but with quiet restraint and attention. The support of his presence, there against the Jedi's back, nearly made up for the lack at his side.

Nearly.

No one spoke of it, but Anakin knew the reason so many had approached him with quiet words. It was not for his own grief, but because he would be the messenger to the one man who was not among them.

Of all those who had known the Jedi Master, one alone did not gather with them to share his memories. Obi-Wan Kenobi - partner, padawan, knight, lifemate.

No one mentioned it but Anakin could feel their eyes as they each spoke, moving about the circle, meeting each in turn... and then centering, for long moments, upon the empty place at his side. Regret, palpable, hung in that place like a shiver of coldness.

They spoke of so many things, each calling forth such memories as shone the brightest to them - daring missions that ended in success, painting an image of a powerful man who had followed his own heart, guided by the Force that he resonated with. A man not without flaws, but who remained true to himself and his own beliefs always. Some, among the oldest masters, brought forth the picture of an impetuous youth, strong willed and stubborn. A brilliant fighter, a good teacher and diplomat. A man with a rough hewn warmth and loyalty, once given, that remained unshakable.

Anecdotes, warm and touching or bright and humorous, passed among them. Anakin laughed with the others, picturing the man he had always known as a tall pillar of strength as a havoc wreaking adolescent. Nodded, able to picture all too vividly the many times the man had operated on emotion and instinct. Instances of dry humor, sharing the memory of the laugh that lurked in dark blue eyes. They brought them all forth, passing them around the circle like treasures.

In his own turn Anakin found his throat dry, his voice catching slightly. "He was the first Jedi I had ever seen," he whispered, the words coming slowly. "He took the time, during a mission, to rescue a child. An unimportant no one. He gave faith and kindness to a boy he didn't know. He brought me here. When I first came to the Temple, Qui-Gon was the one who spoke for me." Nodding heads around the circle, remembrance in so many eyes. Anakin closed his own, unable to meet them. "He supported me, even against the wishes of the Council. He believed... I've tried always to be worthy of what he saw in me. He was a good man, and a strong one."

Silent warmth against his side. He reached out, brushing Han's shoulder lightly, bowing his head. A moment of silence, then another - he could feel the aching emptiness beside him, the voice that should have spoken, that bore the most memories of all to share. A moment of silence, and then another voice took up the sharing, a Master whom Anakin only dimly knew, speaking of a kindness the passed Jedi Master had once done him.

A hand reached out, covering his own hesitantly. He gripped it, grateful for the contact, feeling the brief returned squeeze of Han's fingers against his own.

Memory after memory, until sunset gave way to dusk and dusk to evening, the soft lights of the garden twinkling like stars. When the voices died away, the last memory shared, they sat in silence. Treasuring, remembering - not the loss, but the life that had touched their own. They left as they had come, one by one, standing and departing in silence made lighter by the sharing.

Anakin pushed himself to his feet at last, Han scrambling up beside him. They took no leave of those still gathered. Anakin drew his cloak around him, seeking an almost physical refuge in its folds.

Han walked quietly at his side, head down. As they left the gardens, entering the corridor, he glanced up briefly. "He always wanted to believe the best of everyone," he said softly. At Anakin's questioning look, the boy jerked his chin back the way they had come. "Master Jinn. He liked to see the potential in people." A quick shrug of thin shoulders. "Me... you. He picked up foundlings."

Anakin smiled softly, reaching out to brush the short crop of his Padawan's hair. "Yes... yes, he did. You should have said something. Everyone was welcome to speak."

Han shrugged uncomfortably. "Not my place. I didn't know him well enough. Besides, you said it better."

The Jedi Knight let it go with a nod, dropping his hand to briefly squeeze the boy's shoulder. "Thank you for coming."

Surprise flashed through dark eyes. "Welcome," Han mumbled, dropping his head again to hide the flush in his cheeks.

If the boy was surprised when his Master walked past the door of their quarters he didn't show it. Anakin, after a few steps, slowed slightly, turning to look at him. "You can go back," he said quietly. "I just need to check on him."

There was a certain set to the mouth and the dark brows that spoke entire volumes of rebellious emotion, even without the hint of drawled sarcasm in the tone. "Is that an order... Master?"

Normally, it amused Anakin. Now he only shook his head, unable to find the strength to answer the jest between them. "No. Come if you like. And... thank you."

Another shrug. Han said nothing else, only fell back into step, a supportive shadow at the Jedi Knight's side. Only at the door of their destination did he halt, turning to plant his back firmly against the corridor wall. "I'll wait here."

Anakin nodded, understanding. The door was unlocked, sliding back as he touched the controls.

Within, the chambers were quiet and dark, lit only by the lights of Coruscant beyond the windows. Anakin let the door slide shut behind him, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the light, picking out the shapes of room and furniture.

And the figure, still and silent, that sat on a couch in the main room, facing out over the lights of the city.

"Master?" The quiet word seemed loud in the silence, cutting through it harshly. Anakin stepped forward, kneeling down but hesitant to reach out and touch the occupant. "Master Obi-Wan?"

The man sat as he must have sat for hours, eyes focused not on the scene beyond the window but within, dark and dim. His hair was unbound, falling loose about his face, half hiding it. The cloak spread across his knees and clutched to his chest was black in the darkness, but Anakin would have wagered a fair amount that it would have still been shades darker than Obi-Wan's own cloak in the light. It trailed over his knees and pooled on the floor, a length of fabric meant for a taller man.

Reaching out, Anakin placed a tentative hand on one shoulder. "Master... you should sleep."

Slowly, darkened eyes turned to meet his gaze. The Jedi Master had lost weight, exhaustion and loss carving deep shadows beneath his eyes and in the hollows of his cheeks. He shook his head slightly, hands clenching in the fabric of the cloak. "I can't," he whispered brokenly, eyes sliding away.

Anakin followed that gaze to the shadowed rim of darkness in the far wall where the door to the sleeping chamber lay. Memories, a thousand of them, washed over him. How many times had he seen Qui-Gon stride through that door? In the mornings, wrapped in a robe, emerging tousled even as Anakin himself had from his adjoining chamber in search of the scent of spice tea already brewing in the main room. In the evenings, retreating there with a tired nod. Memories Anakin would not share but held selfishly to his heart - hearing, behind that door, the sound of their voices raised in laughter and anticipating a day of lessons laced with smiles and good humor. Or the darker times, when he had passed the open door to glimpse them locked in each others arms, heads bowed in sadness or fatigue or defeat. The rare times the Force of their chambers had vibrated with controlled emotion, when the voices from that door had been raised, tight and tense. The many, many times when the rippling waves of warmth upon the Force, no matter how they shielded, had lulled him to sleep in his youth.

It seemed impossible to imagine, now, that it was all gone. That he could not, in the morning, stop by their quarters to greet them both as they took morning meal. A shiver raced through him, born on a cresting wave of realization. It was real. The emptiness of the chambers, the quiet barren feeling... half of the heart of the rooms he had lived most of his youth within was gone. Qui-Gon Jinn was gone.

Looking back, the expression upon the face of his Master near broke him. Obi-Wan's eyes were lost, a hopeless, helpless expression of emptiness. They focused on him only briefly, drawn back, again and again, to the darkened door. "I can't," the Jedi Master repeated softly, and Anakin could hear the words behind the broken whisper, resonating clearly in a heart that ached for the other man. An empty barren sleeping room and a couch, where two hearts had forever beaten, now expected to hold only one.

"Obi-Wan," he whispered. His own body was heavy with fatigue but strength he didn't know he had came to him, answering a need more urgent than sleep. Taking his Master's face between his hands, he could feel the trembling tension in the jaw. Leaning forward, he pressed a kiss gently to a brow graven with grief, tasting the lines of tautly held control beneath his lips. He smoothed them with his thumbs, feeling the tremor that ran through the older man.

The sitting couch held two easily. Anakin sat beside the Jedi Master, then reached out, tugging Obi-Wan's stiff body down. "You need to sleep," he said firmly, putting as much of the Force into the words as he dared. "But not alone. Not now, Master." He pushed the other man's resisting head down against his own thigh. "Rest, if you can."

The tension did not leave but after a heartbeat Obi-Wan allowed the weight of his head to lean against Anakin, moving stiffly to settle himself on the couch. His body was curled tightly around the puddle of black cloak that he clutched to his chest, shivers running through him. Anakin moved his hand to the other man's back, rubbing in gentle circles, a quiet comforting motion.

A shudder wracked through the Jedi Master. Burying his face in the folds of cloak, he curled into himself, silent sobs shivering through him. Anakin held him, feeling his own tears heavy in his eyes. "My Master," he whispered softly, fingertips brushing through the fall of loose hair as he held the other man close. "Obi-Wan... ah, my Master. Let it go."

No sound passed Obi-Wan's lips; only the tears, silent and intensely private, a loss no other could share. Anakin rocked the shuddering body in his arms, head bowed over one curled shoulder, letting his own tears flow. There was solace in the simple art of touch, in the beat of another heart in the darkness and the quaver of another breath. It let the grief out, gave it a release no solitary tears could have provided. Anakin found the other man's hand, held it in his own, roughly twining their fingers together. Hard, calloused fingers, ones which had taught his own the grip of a lightsaber, which had held him and soothed him when he was small, caught hold with a painful strength, clinging desperately.

A brief probe touched him, quiet and unobtrusive. An awkward sympathy slipped through it, a burst of warm, adolescent energy and strength, and then retreated, letting him know that his Padawan was leaving to return to their own quarters. Closing his eyes, Anakin cradled his Master's shivering body across his lap, offering what comfort he could through the heavy silence of the night in his own arms.

 

[...to next stage]


End file.
